


blue skies

by simplyclockwork



Series: natural progression [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Greg Lestrade is a Good Friend, Love, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Series, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock-centric, Slow Burn, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: "we’re finally together.it’s winter, andit’s cold out,so I stand closeto you andenjoy your presence."
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: natural progression [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538974
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	blue skies

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet 18 in a series of short fics I'm planning to write based on posts from the tumblr account affectionatesuggestion
> 
> The series will follow a progression into an established Johnlock relationship

Early relationship bliss—that pervasive, drifting sensation of being together in the ‘honeymoon phase’ of coupling—is completely foreign to Sherlock.

He’s experimented before, of course; intimacy is not an entirely alien concept to him. However, intimacy with someone he feels this way for—which is a pinnacle first for him—is entirely new.

Intimacy with John, his feelings for John, are miraculous; phenomenal; abstractly terrifying and all-encompassing.

If he’d thought his feelings for John were an ocean of uncertain depths before their first kiss, they are now a flood, unstoppable and riptide-powerful; threatening to pull him deep under and wash him away into uncertain seas. He is distracted, deconstructed; delicately caught in desultory delusions.

Always a creature of habit, a man of control and careful considerations, Sherlock finds himself warping; changing; reforming beneath John’s strong hands.

While the thought frightens him, he feels a sort of welcome safety in the way he comes undone in the face of John’s gentle handling of his sociopath shell.

In moments when he balances at the edge of a precipice, teetering on the threshold of losing himself in this new person, the one who wants to absorb John Watson into his very skin, the face of his soldier keeps him steady; brings him home with warm arms and soft kisses; quiet giggles and lips on his skin.

When Lestrade corners Sherlock outside Scotland Yard, gleefully demanding an explanation for his and John’s little make out session at the previous day’s crime scene, Sherlock is carefully, casually composed. Lestrade, speaking through a wide grin, asks the critical question, putting word and name to the reality that has been ricocheting through Sherlock’s head like a curved bullet:

“So, what? Are you guys together now?”

Sherlock boils with panic and shivers with the wonderful fact of _yes, yes we are_ , but opens his mouth to find silence pouring forth as if the flood has filled his very lungs.

He drowns and blinks; suffers and sinks below an ocean of his making.

When he raises his head, he finds John’s eyes, blue skies and calm seas, and sucks in a breath that feels like coming home.

He looks to Lestrade; tilts his head and affects a small smile.

“Obviously, Lestrade.” He hums, voice perfect and balanced, a sharp contrast to the eddies of unfathomable rising waters inside his chest. His eyes dart back to John—finds a smile on his face, finds him pleased with lightly pinkening cheeks and a light in his gaze that Sherlock recognizes as belonging to him, and him alone.

Lestrade is babbling, some kind of happy well wishes, something along the lines that he knew all along, and the air is cold against Sherlock’s face. John is laughing, the sunlight of his smile moving closer as he walks over, stepping close to Sherlock’s side as he attempts to ward off Lestrade’s congratulations.

Sherlock looks at John; at his face in profile as he speaks to Lestrade. He shifts closer, drawn to the heat emanating from John’s body. Warmed by John’s presence, Sherlock tilts his head and looks up into the grey, wintry skies. Clouds the same colour as his eyes drift along a chill breeze, but Sherlock stands close to his soldier and doesn’t feel the cold trying to creep into his skin.


End file.
